


some things change. some things stay the same.

by eyemoji



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: here's my formal experiment of the month, hummm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 15:07:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13010367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyemoji/pseuds/eyemoji
Summary: orchestration, that’s what this all is. a symphony, and he’s the conductor, she the accompanist.music is the universal language,and oh, isn’t that funny?





	some things change. some things stay the same.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fab_ia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fab_ia/gifts).



> (for fabia.)

the day he dies is the day he finally learns to live.

 

 _it’s exhilarating,_ he thinks, examining his newly grown fingernails. his head feels light where the hair doesn’t hang down to brush against the curve of his neck. he gives it a quick shake. laughs. it’s _wrong_ … but somehow, that makes it exactly right. in this state, existing exactly where he is at exactly now, all the old responsibilities fall away. no one knows him like this. no one can point fingers. or guns. he’ll be doing the pointing now, thank you very much, as he figures out how the heck to get this body working properly.

 

next to him, she coughs. she coughs awake, and he’s brought back to reality for a second as he remembers he’s not in this alone, not this time.

she’s all he has left now.

he stretches his arms out, swings them back and forth, testing. already testing the limits. good.

she’s a little bleary, but she’ll catch up.

after all, she had more to lose.

 

*

 

it’s strange, looking at her and not seeing the familiar face of his _commander_ staring back at him. it’s still her, he knows, but all the same… something is different now, and not just the way her eyes don’t sit in her head quite right anymore. there’s a coldness to her face already, written in the slant of her cheekbones and the tilt of her head every time she encounters something she hadn’t before, or something she _had,_ only now she’s seeing it through different eyes, quite literally. _these_ eyes like to analyze, to pick apart the situation in a way she’d always had the capacity to, but nearly never the patience. this isn’t the woman he could tease into laughter from the brink of warfare. it’s fine. he’s not so sure he has the ability to make anyone laugh, anymore. he’d always been a pagliacci. it’s about time he learned to enjoy the jesting.

 

*

 

the words that come off his tongue nowadays are rounder, but filled with so much more meaning. _it’s easier,_ he surmises, _when you know what’s going to happen._

 

 _communication is key,_ of course. communication. communicate. communicate, ________. that’s not what he calls himself, anymore, but there’s a husk of a seed inside him that still answers to that name. name. names. he collects them now, like he used to do old cds and faded posters and words stolen from a scattering of movies. _time is weird,_ he acknowledges one day. _i used to cling to the past. now i’m here._

 

*

 

she knows what name she has to take, but she never did like it. still, she says she won’t change it, not again. this time, she’s figuring out who she is first. she won’t waste time hankering for the praise she once used to crave. she doesn’t need the recognition-- she knows she’s good enough, now. she _will_ be good enough. the smartest woman in the world, she’s going to be. he can handle the people.

 

*

 

communications. he’s been all sorts of things-- father, friend, terrible date, the whacko everyone would steer clear of if there was enough space on the claustrophobic piece of junk to get away. more recently he’s been director, promoted, charming, scary, even. (he didn’t know he could be scary. he kinda likes it. means people pay attention, for once. means people care.)

but in the end, it always comes down to communication. he’s a communications officer. pr. talks to strange people and convinces them to do things his way. peacemaker, in a weird sort of way. communicate. _communicate_. new name time, time to shake things up. everything is different. everything stays the same.

 

*

 

_be a big girl, don’t die._

it wasn’t her code to follow.

 

*

code is an interesting thing, she learns. it’s easily manipulated. finally, something that will listen to her unconditionally, no matter how quietly she makes the suggestion. she hits _build_ . a smile curves across her lips. this time, they will remember her voice. _run_.

 

*

 

they both know better than to get attached, now. they can see themselves, not in the mirror but on the streets. it makes sense now, how easy it had been. how easily they’d fallen. they have to make the same mistakes again, for this to work out. _they_ have to.

and they will. why wouldn’t they?

 

*

 

the night a texas car hits the interstate, his heart hammers so loudly he remembers it’s there. as the minutes tick by, he considers giving in, giving up. if only to not give _her_ up.

then the clock ticks forward. the moment passes. there’s no _her_ in his life anymore, he remembers. she’s not his. _she wouldn’t recognize this anyways._

 

he needs a distraction. he needs focus. he needs the lab, if he’s honest, to sew up this pesky aching organ. he takes the elevator for the first time. he’s had his fill of going down. now? now he’s going up. _way_ up.

 

****

 

she hasn’t touched a newspaper in decades.

 

this is saying something, because television-- proper television-- has only just recently started existing again. she’s taken to listening to the radio, over the years. when he first proposes the plan to her-- long-range, foresightful, and it strikes her how much he’s changed while managing to stay exactly the same-- she’s the one who suggests the logs.

 

_is that wise?_

 

 _we need them._ (but really, she just wants a reminder, so she can dump all her unsureties into one box and be done with the lot of them.)

 

he laughs, and it rings hollow, as he talks how he really has been the chosen one. _after all this time… who would have thought?_

 

she snaps at him, and she’s cold about it, too: _we still have a long way to go_ \--

she almost calls him by his name-- the old one, the oldest one. she shuts her mouth promptly, cuts her own vitriol off, and he doesn’t notice, doesn’t even blink. she hates how that makes it worse, reminds her of before. _why was it so easy for him to forget?_

 

(it wasn’t. he hasn’t forgotten, in fact-- that’s what makes the game easier, in the end.)

 

she wants a new start. he wants an end to it all.

if you think about it, they want the same thing.

 

*

 

he noticed, but he didn’t comment. easier for her to think she’s outwitted him again, he thinks. he’s wrong, of course. she’ll tell him later, much later. so much later that it puts the late in _too late._

 

the problem is that there’s no too late. they can just start over. again. and again. and again and again and again-- as many times as it takes. he hates the recordings now, and she’s almost sorry for suggesting them.

 

he hates the sound of his own voice.

 

 _that’s new_.

 

 _no, it isn’t._ he says her new name, then, the one she’s held onto for no discernible reason, the one she hates. the one that’s her. him saying it fills her with a feeling so icy it gives the part of her brain that deals with emotion frostbite.

 

whatever. she doesn’t need those anymore anyways.

 

*

 

one day, she learns how to spare others the trouble, too.

 

*

 

she uses it on herself, one day, and it almost works until he barges in and rips the wire out, shaking, close to screaming.

 

she spits, asks him _what in the hell do you think you’re doing?_

 

he looks at her with widened eyes and again she can see the spark of the old soul inside.

 

_i can’t lose you._

 

she scoffs.

 

_like you care._

 

he doesn’t answer, just stares at her evenly. then, recomposing himself, he turns on his heel and leaves.

 

she eyes the crushed tangle on the table. she needs a better way to do this. more effective. more _permanent._

 

*

 

(she builds it, eventually, but this is one thing she’s too scared to try on herself. she’ll never admit it. claims trial and error. claims boredom. but the truth is, she’d rip her own eyes out before she does that to herself. because once done, never reversible. permanence is a scary thing, ______. it’s why the reset button both scares her and keeps her together.

 

she finds out, later, that the eyes also lack a do-over button. sigh. another thing to keep improving.

 

another distraction.)

 

*

 

he has his own set of distractions. _there are no failures, only setbacks_ . he likes setting them against each other, two different forms of loyal dog-- dog and cat, really, but he prefers not to waste _too_ much time to thinking about that. their tongues complement their styles, he notices.

 

he also notices that he lets them at it because they remind him of two other people he knows. used to know. used to.

 

what’s his name again?

 

it starts with a k- sound. two syllables? peas in a pod, he sees.

if mendel were watching, he would approve.

 

*

 

orchestration, that’s what this all is. a symphony, and he’s the conductor, she the accompanist. _music is the universal language,_ and _oh,_ isn’t that funny?

 

he likes this metaphor. it keeps him on track. reminds him of his goals, the old and the new.

 

then and now.

 

eight light years away, a finger flicks on a _transmit_ button. (inelegant).

 

“uhh...i think i’m recording?”

 

back on earth, a body belonging to a different set of hands tries not to flinch as he remembers the person that once was him.

 

he picks up the receiver. holds it a little closer. squints as if he’s trying to read the radio waves.

 

a smart knock at the door. he sets it down. sets it away. they’ve come so far. shame to waste it. he orders another chai.

**Author's Note:**

> hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm my first formal thing in over three months and it's.... this. it will only make the barest flicker of sense if you've listened to terms and conditions, but even then...
> 
> humor me.
> 
> it's not a concept i expect to see in the one (1) episode we've got left, but it's one i like and would like to explore, to figure out how to get past all the obvious loopholes with it.


End file.
